Down deep

Ellis Island: Years ago and generations back, my family passed through this little island, their thoughts and fears I can only imagine in a thousand ways. Although my own time spent on this island was brief, I did manage to learn a little about immigration in the U.S. Also of interest, I discovered that the words bum and bummer come from the German language and hunky-dory from Dutch. Strange how our extended ethnic heritage can reach into our daily, personal household language without any conscious recognition or recollection.

Statue of Liberty: Loved, glorified, over-priced, propagandized, replicated, battered, weaved deep into the American consciousness and that of people around the world. Based on the museum at her feet, you'd think she was the most sacred symbol of democracy ever to exist and perhaps you'll believe it, perhaps not. I was particularly interested in a brief paragraph within the statue's history that mentioned another potential vision of the statue, one of a fierce woman with a steel weapon and a flag. Naturally, folks were frightened by this idea and stood solidly behind the passive, benign, receptive image, a waiting beacon. Rather than demanding freedom and democracy, she awaits it patiently, lighting its path, waiting, waiting. Is she still waiting?

Movin' On

Boundaries: New York City is far too big for me to wrap my mind around. Even if I never come back, I will think of it often. It will become like an enigmatic stranger for me, I'll look for her in familiar and strange places. Or perhaps like a long-lost childhood friend, who I'll wonder about but will only find in a small dive bar in a rural Michigan town. Oh, this city, what will become of it and what has it made me. Like I told a down-trodden friend last night, "when it comes to questions like these, time's the only answer."

Direction: Now I am heading for Philadelphia for a few days. Due to my skewed, NYC-perspective, now all cities that I once thought were large and imposing seem village-like, Kalamazoo seems like an unfamiliar name on a smallish dot in Minnesota. And Petersburg? I doubt that it even exists. When I get to Mexico and come back or move on, all places, my sense of time, my sense of space will be distorted all over again, for better or worse. Or perhaps, it doesn't matter at all. It's like a game or a distraction, I suppose.

Suitcase

Packing: is miserable. I'm leaving New York with much more than I came with. This city encourages consumption the way a well-stocked liquor cabinet encourages alcoholism and that's probably the top thing, hands down, that I will not miss. What I will miss is the constant motion, the people, having things at your fingertips that you neither need nor want but the sheer opportunity is enough. Strange that these things would grow on me. At the same time, once I leave the city I probably won't miss any of it, will only remember car exhaust making my eyes burn and over-crowded Times Square, waiting for the subway train, or spending way too much money on coffee. I hope, though, that I'll really remember the great people I was able to spend short amounts of time with, the absurdity of Coney Island, the little surprises I would encounter on the street, and late night hookah cafes.